Arrows
by CrystalOfEllinon
Summary: Jeez, anyone reading my fics would think that I really, really hate the Joe medics...which I don't. Still, this time around they've got Storm Shadow to deal with. Sorry, guys.
1. Chapter 1

Don't own the Joes, yadda yadda, blah blah. If you're reading this, Hasbro, I'm open to negotiations. Also, I'd like to offer my services as a consultant on the next Joe movie. I can be a bit tough, but I think the fans would appreciate my fanaticism on your team. I'll work for an intro to the dude who played Storm; _yummy._

Storm Shadow ducked; the bullet _pinged_ off the wall just above his head. Snipers. He _hated _snipers. Actually, that wasn't entirely true… he enjoyed killing them.

He slid behind a dumpster, extracted a smoke bomb from the hidden pocket in his _gi_ front, and chucked it. The pop, flash, and resulting cloud of white smoke distracted the enemy perched above him; he saw the gleam of light off the 'scope as the man shifted.

Storm broke cover, going the opposite direction from his smoke bomb. He was across the street and halfway up the side of the half-fallen two-story store that the viper sharpshooter was perched on before the man could refocus.

Snake Eyes would have just shot the man. Tommy knew that his mute friend didn't really understand why he didn't carry firearms; Snake Eyes didn't have a problem using _anything_ that would expedite a situation, and was a damned _surgeon_ with an Uzi.

Truth be told, Storm Shadow-who was also a crack shot if he wanted to be-didn't particularly have anything against modern weapons...aside from the fact that they were noisy, and more or less cheating. Guns really made things _far_ too easy.

He launched himself over the edge of the roof, ninety degrees off from where the sniper was looking, nervously clutching a sidearm. His knife took the man's kidneys, and he was gone as the viper painfully twitched out his last few seconds on the rooftop.

It was fairly standard MO for the Joe team; if an enemy was dug in, Hawk would send in his pair of ninja to soften things up a bit for the rest of the team. It was a practice that Storm Shadow highly approved of; Tommy very much enjoyed a little sniper-hunting. The man he'd just killed was the third sniper today.

He keyed his headset. "Snipers are down on my side."

"Excellent." Hawk sounded as happy as only shooting international terrorists in the face could make the general. "Snake?"

The tapping of Morse code. *One left.*

Storm grinned to himself before keying his mike again. "You're getting slow, brother."

*Shut up.* Snake Eyes somehow managed to sound aggravated with Morse code...no mean achievement.

"When you're done, check in with me. Storm, if you'd like we've got a whole mess of vipers over by my team...if you get here fast enough we might not shoot them all first."

"On it." Storm took off at a dead run.

Dusty's voice cut in. "The detachment of iron grenadiers are down...and you should get us into fights in the Sahara more often, General. Nice not to freeze my buns off for once."

"Good, Dusty." Hawk sounded amused. "I'll tell the Commander that you appreciate his choice of locales."

Half an hour later, and the tiny ghost town that Cobra had taken over was cleared. Storm tugged a final _shuriken_ out of a vipers' spine, wiped the blood off, and tucked it back into its pouch.

A black shape detached itself from a shadow and slid up on his left. Tommy nodded at his sword brother. "How many?"

*Eighteen.* Snake Eyes glanced at him. *You?*

Storm Shadow sighed. "Sixteen."

The grin was unmistakable, even through his sword brother's mask. *What was that crack about me getting slow, again?*

Tommy eyed his fellow ninja. "You know, if I stab you, I take credit for all of your kills too."

*Try.* Snake Eyes' grin didn't fade.

Breaker's voice interrupted their mild argument. "General Hawk? You'd better see this."

The tech sounded...confused? Storm frowned. Snake Eyes broke into a jog, and Tommy fell in next to him. There were little alarm bells going off in the back of his skull. And after many years and more than a little sweat and blood spent honing them, Thomas Arashikage _trusted_ his instincts.

They reached the Cobra tech bunker at the same time Hawk did. Breaker was standing outside. Hawk frowned. "Breaker, I told you I wanted you to scrounge whatever intel you could. That wasn't a suggestion; it was an _order._"

"I tried." Breaker cracked his gum absently. "Problem is, there's nothing _to_ scrounge...this place is a shell. Completely gutted."

Hawk's frown deepened, but now it wasn't with irritation at his communications specialist. "Then what the hell were they defending this building for?"

Breaker shrugged. "Not a clue, sir. But there's not so much as a broken floppy left in there."

Storm Shadow eyed the scrubby desert and the forlorn buildings around them suspiciously. Snake Eyes was doing the same; Tommy heard the soft 'click' of his sword brother sliding a fresh clip into his Uzi.

"Anything under the bunker? Entrance to a hidden facility? Safe containing tech supplies? _Anything?"_

"Nope. Looked everywhere, sir."

If _he'd_ been a ninja hired for an assassination-and he had been, many times-and his target was prominent...Say, a brigadier general...

Say he was a Red Hand who'd been hired by an international terrorist organization, and offered all of the troops and support he wanted. And his intel revealed that his target was well guarded, but also revealed that his mark was unwilling to stay put in a safe office...

He's set up a dummy base, let his mark think he'd won (vipers, after all, were expendable) draw him out with a puzzle, and put an arrow through his skull. Storm closed his eyes, listening. Past the footsteps of the Joes, past the heartbeats around him. He's dig himself just under the sand, probably under low brush...like that, a hundred yards to the northwest...He strained his ears.

He was rewarded with the faint creak of a wooden bow being bent and the thrum of a string sliding off of fingers.

Storm Shadow lunged for Hawk, shoving the general down and snatching the red-fletched arrow out of the air. A faint hiss, and he grabbed the second missile. Whoever the Red Hand agent was, he or she was good with a bow. A choked screech of pain, which abruptly cut off. Snake Eyes had got to the archer, then.

The scream almost covered the soft hiss of something pointy moving extremely quickly and getting very close.

Fuck.

Not an archery ace; _two_ archers. The arrow was almost too close already; Storm did the only thing he had time for. He pivoted slightly to one side, and brought his left forearm across where he guessed the missile to be aimed. With _any_ luck, it would hit his arm instead of anything vital.

The arrow hit him instead of Hawk's temple, punching through the muscle of his forearm and pinning it to his side. A second scream of pain, and Tommy knew that his sword brother had found the second archer.

There was a great deal of yelling going on. Storm hissed in pain, grabbed the arrow near where it was sticking into his side, and broke the wooden shaft in half with a sharp jerk of his arm. He yanked the fletched stub out of his arm, tossed it aside, and eyed the several inches of the arrow shaft that were still sticking out of him, low on his ribs.

Something that not many people realized was that to be able to destroy a human body as quickly and with as little effort as possible, you had to understand how the human body worked. By the time they were graduated to field agent status, a ninja had an understanding of anatomy and physiology that most medical graduates would envy.

Tommy carefully took a breath. The fact that he _could_ told him that the arrow hadn't punctured a lung. He glanced at his arm; it was bleeding pretty good, but not dangerously, and the angle was wrong to have hit any major veins anyways.

He glanced back down at the arrow. Judging by the angle, the missile had glanced downwards off a rib, missing lungs and heart. Judging by how deeply it was embedded, it was still mostly in the muscle. Maybe stuck in bone. Either way, he didn't think anything vital was damaged; he'd already have been on the ground otherwise. Still, it _hurt._

"Storm is hit!" Hawk war roaring into his 'comm. "Lifeline, our ninja has a goddamned _arrow_ sticking out of him! I want you here _now!_ Lift-Ticket! Get an evac chopper warmed up!_"_

Tommy tugged at the arrow and gasped, digging his fingers into the hot dust of the ground... he'd somehow ended up on his knees in the last two or three seconds. Okay, that _really_ hurt. It felt like the damn thing was barbed, and judging by how solidly it was stuck the barbs were caught on-or, judging by the pain, _in_- bone.

Hawk was crouched next to him, talking. "Leave it, that's an order; Lifeline says you'll do more damage if you try and pull it out." The general's voice was surprisingly gentle.

Storm Shadow glared at his CO. "Thank you for stating the obvious, sir." He sat back on his heels, rested his hands on his knees, and closed his eyes. Breath in, hold for two heartbeats, exhale. Repeat. The pain mercifully subsided as he slid into meditation.

"Storm!" Lifeline's voice cut through his detachment. "You still with me?"

Tommy cracked his eyes open and glared at the medic as his side started throbbing again. "No. I decided to take a nap because I'm so damned comfy right now." He could hear the snarl in his voice; the medic really didn't deserve it, but it was a little painful to talk at the moment.

"Well, he's snarking, so that's a good sign." Lifeline cut his shirt off and cursed softly. "_Jesus..._how many weapons do you have hidden, anyways? I'm surprised this thing didn't glance off a knife or something." The medic tossed the _gi_ top aside with a soft _clink _and examined the injury. "You're not bleeding much...that's good. You'll need surgery to get this out. I can't do much more than stabilize this thing until we can get you on the operating table. You're lucky; the impact cracked your rib, but it didn't go in deep and didn't hit anything vital."

"I know." Tommy grated. "Tell Doc to be careful; it's barbed, and I think the barbs are caught in the bone."

Lifeline winced. "How bad is the pain?"

"On a scale of one to ten? Twenty." Tommy closed his eyes again. "I _know_ it's caught in the bone...I know bone pain when I feel it."

He felt a prick on his arm. "There...that should help."

"What..." The world swam suddenly. "Whoa..."

"Morphine." Lifeline easily tipped him over onto a stretcher and started taping the stub of the arrow shaft firmly in place. Tommy blinked a few times; he didn't feel a damned _thing._

A dark shape appeared. Snake Eyes was looking worried. Tommy grinned up at him. "Hi, Snake."

*How is he?*

"He'll pull through. He'll need surgery, but he's a lucky man...it's not deep and it's not in anything important." Lifeline started bandaging Tommy's arm. "I'd like you to ride back in the evac chopper with me...I'll strap him down, and he shouldn't be able to get out of it right now. Morphine kills his hand-eye coordination in addition to making him a little loopy. But just in case."

"'m _fine._" Tommy tried to sit up. "Feel _great._"

Lifeline casually shoved him back down. "Lie still, Storm...Like I said, it makes him a little loopy...there's the evac chopper. Help me get him up, Snake."


	2. Chapter 2

The flight back to the Pit was...interesting. Storm fought gamely against the influence of the painkillers, but kept getting dragged down into a bemused stupor.

In one moment of lucidity, he made a mental note to maim Lifeline at the earliest possible opportunity; the combat medic knew perfectly well that he preferred pain to the lightheaded detachment of powerful painkillers.

He narrowed his eyes at the medic. "You..."

Lifeline looked down in concern. "It is hurting again? It shouldn't be...I gave you enough morphine to lay a horse out cold."

Tommy scowled. "_Hate_ you." And...damn it, he was losing it again. He returned to blinking at the ceiling. "Kill you once I find my arms again."

Lifeline relaxed. "Okay then. Sounds good."

Off to the side, Storm could see his brother signing. *Hawk's putting in for a purple heart for you, Tommy.*

"Great. Put it in the drawer with my others." He tried sitting up, only to find that he was _tied_ down...he didn't remember _that_ happening. "I'm tied up."

Lifeline sighed. "For the fourth time, yes you are, and for the fourth time, I will not untie you. God, painkillers really throw you for a loop, don't they?"

"_Kill_ you."

Back at the Pit, and he was just starting to feel a bit more like himself by the time X-Rays were finished. He almost managed to sit up before Doc calmly administered anesthesia and everything went dark.

_Narrow, dark hall. Grinding screech of steel against steel, flashes of a black, masked, familiar figure. A duck, a pivot..._

_ Fire scoring across his back. Lying, bleeding, back opened shoulder to hip, watching his one-time brother walk away. Dragging himself upright, almost falling through the door into the Commander's medical center..._

He woke, images of long-past battles fading. Something about anesthesia _always_ made him replay old injuries. Tommy sighed and moved to sit up, only to immediately fall back against his pillow.

The room righted itself. His brain still felt sluggish, but at least the morphine had worn off. The throbbing in his side was almost welcome after his most recent experience with opiate painkillers.

He looked himself and the room over; he was in the ICU recovery room, settled on one of the cots. He still had an IV line and a pulse monitor hooked up to him. He sat up more gingerly and peeled back the blankets to examine his side.

He couldn't see much; a thick white bandage covered the damage. But when he moved, he could feel the familiar pull of stitches in skin and muscle, and he didn't feel a steel point grinding against bone.

He shook his head. He hated sedation. Even more than Snake Eyes; his sword brother was at least more used to it. Tommy unclipped the pulse monitor and eyed the IV line.

Three interns and Lifeline crashed through the door. The medics visibly relaxed when they saw that the ninja _wasn't_ going into cardiac arrest. Lifeline waved the interns out. "Go...I'll take care of him."

The three interns retreated with visible expressions of relief; Storm Shadow was a notoriously irritable patient. Lifeline glared at the ninja. "Don't even _think_ about pulling that out."

"I've already thought about it. I'm just considering the quickest way to do it now."

Lifeline stalked across the room to a counter and picked up something. He brandished a sheet of plastic in Storm's direction. "Do you know what this is?"

Storm raised an eyebrow. "I'm guessing that's my X-Ray."

"Yep. Take a look." Lifeline handed the sheet over. "What do you see here?"

Storm examined the picture with interest. "I was right; it _was_ in the bone."

"Remember how I told you not to try and pull it out?"

"Mm."

"You did anyway, and look." The medic took the transparency and pointed. "You can see here where your rib cracked...and you can see _here_ that when you decided to give the thing a tug one of the barbs dug into the marrow cavity on your rib. A full quarter-inch. I personally don't know how you were still conscious...bone pain is the worst kind." The medic frowned. "And you were griping at me for giving you painkillers. Most people would have been screaming on the ground and begging for God to mercy-kill them dead."

Storm eyed him. "Do you have a point here?"

"You were in surgery for four hours...Doc practically had to use pliers to get the thing out; you managed to stick it in _that_ hard."

"And?"

Lifeline held up a small glass jar. "Here it is. See the bits of tissue on the third barb? That's your bone marrow."

"Either make your point or I'm leaving right now."

Lifeline sighed. "You're staying put for awhile. And that order comes straight from General Hawk." The medic handed him a sheet of paper. Storm Shadow looked it over.

Sure enough, orders to comply with the medic's instructions for no less than three days, signed in Hawk's slanted scrawl. Tommy glared at the paper. "See if I save _him_ again."

"He'll be down here to thank you in person as soon as he hears you're awake." Lifeline smiled slightly. "He applied for a purple heart for you, you know...Snake told you on the flight back, but you were pretty out of it, so I'm not sure if you remember."

"Vaguely." Tommy shifted his glare to the medic. "You _know_ I hate painkillers."

Lifeline sighed in frustration. "So I was just supposed to let you suffer? I'm a _medic_. I can't _do_ that."

"I can deal with pain."

"Do you remember, about a minute ago, when I mentioned the whole 'barbed arrowhead digging into your broken bone and inflicting enough pain to make a professional wrestler cry like a little girl' thing? Sorry for thinking that a shot of morphine was the merciful thing to do."

"I'd rather deal with the pain." Tommy frowned. "I don't _like_ being drugged."

"Yeah, you and Snake both. I'm sure you'll play 'leave dents in the training mats with Lifeline's face' as soon as you're up to hand-to-hand again." Lifeline eyed him. "How's it feeling now?"

"Like I got shot and had a large sharp chunk of metal dug out of my side."

Lifeline sighed. "Well, your sense of sarcasm is intact, anyways. Do you want anything? I can give you something that won't loop you out quite so badly."

"No."

"Okay. If you change your mind, just buzz for someone. I'll be in every half-hour or so to check up on you." Lifeline moved for the pulse monitor.

Tommy glared at him. "Try to put that back on and you lose your hand."

"Fine. Be that way." Lifeline shook his head. "You hungry at all? Thirsty?"

Tommy raised an eyebrow.

"Good god, drug Snake's food once..." Lifeline sighed. "I won't put anything in it, I swear. I don't need to. You've got orders from Hawk to stay put, remember?"

"Sadly. And I could eat."


	3. Chapter 3

I wasn't going to have one character in this story, but due to popular demand (and okay, because I want to see some pampering too) she might be making an appearance.

* * *

Sure enough, Tommy heard Hawk's distinctive footsteps approaching not twenty minutes later. He pushed his empty tray aside. So far, he was feeling fine.

He glanced up when the general walked through the door. "You'll forgive me if I don't jump to attention. "

"Given the circumstances, I think I'll manage." Hawk smiled. "I owe you my thanks…not everyone could have done that, and I'm damn glad you did."

Storm Shadow shook his head. "I swore to serve you. Part of that oath means defending you with my life in necessary. Anything less is…" He shook his head again. "Unthinkable."

"Well, thank you anyway." Hawk grinned. "Your hazard pay is going up again if I have anything to say about it, and you'll be getting _another _medal. Do you have a dress uniform? You'd have more purple hearts…"

Tommy grinned just a little. "Somewhere. I've never worn it. Too much metal to pin to the front…it'd be heavy. And if you keep raising my pay you're going to bankrupt the Pentagon. Not that I object, mind you."

Hawk chuckled and turned to go, but paused. "Three days. I'm sure Lifeline's already told you, but I know how well you usually listen to him and Doc. If you vanish, I will have Snake hunt you down, and you'll be on KP duty for a week."

Tommy sighed. "Sir. Stay put in medical for…" He glanced at the clock. "Two days, twenty-three hours, and thirty-five minutes."

Hawk groaned. "Somehow, I still have a feeling that Doc is going to be in my office and complaining about you. Don't hurt yourself; that _is_ an order."

Storm lifted one shoulder. "I've been cut up worse…often enough at your team's hands. I'll be fine."

Hawk left. Storm hopped out of bed. He'd been ordered not to leave the infirmary, but he hadn't said anything about staying in bed.

He moved to stretch his arms; his shoulders were stiff. The IV line tugged, and he scowled and yanked it out.

Doc looked in about ten minutes later. When the door opened, Tommy was halfway through his stretching exercises. "Storm, Lifeline says…._what the hell are you doing?"_

Storm straightened. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm stretching…I don't want to go completely soft."

Doc glared at him. "Bed! Three days!"

"Infirmary, three days. I didn't promise anything about staying in bed, and I won't. You didn't seriously think that I was going to be a good little boy, did you? I'd die of boredom."

Doc sighed. "You have a TV with cable hookup all to yourself. Any of the interns can get you books, writing material, magazines…or you could just take a nap. Sit down; did you _have_ to pull out your IV?"

"It was annoying."

"Well, it's going back in. It's not there for show; you're on antibiotics to keep that mess you made of your side from getting infected." Doc eyed the bandage on his patient's side. "You better not have pulled out any of those stitches."

Storm examined the man; Doc had a steely gleam in his eyes. The ninja sighed, sat down, and didn't resist as the doctor poked and fussed. "I didn't pull my stitches. I know how hard I can push; it's not like I've never been laid up before."

"I am ordering a trank gun." Doc sighed. "I don't even care anymore."

"Lifeline won't use one." Storm considered. "Will he? Is shooting someone with a knockout dart acceptable for a pacifist? Not familiar with the mindset."

Doc smirked. "Lifeline might not…but Low Light will, and would enjoy it more than a little. And Lifeline does well enough on his own."

"Your medic is a wily one." Storm leaned back against his pillow. "Fetch me the remote."

Doc glared. Storm grinned. "What? You want me to stay in bed, you have to fetch me distractions. You said so yourself."

"I really hate it when you and Snake end up in here." Doc sighed. "You make BeachHead look like a model patient."

"Well, I don't like being here either." Tommy caught the remote. "Thanks. Now, I wouldn't say no to something to drink, either…Snake keeps his tea on the top shelf of the cupboard in the rec room. Boil the water, don't microwave it. Steep for three minutes…any more and it goes bitter."

Doc planted his hands on his hips. "Call an intern. I'm a doctor, not a servant."

"None of the interns get it right." Tommy smiled. "You and Lifeline are the only ones who know how to brew a proper cup of tea."

"You are just as irritating when you're staying put as when you're dodging me, you know."

"Thank you. I do try."

"I'll send in Lifeline." Doc stalked out.

Tommy spent twenty minutes flipping through television channels, which only reinforced his opinion that the only thing most cable programming was good for was killing innocent brain cells. Sherry always insisted on watching science fiction; the woman had a really terrifying ability to recite the scripts from most reruns of her favorite shows word for word. Storm considered this an early warning sign of dementia, and had told her as much.

_That_ had earned him a smack.

He hummed to himself. She was on mandatory leave for a week…ending in two days. He was rather looking forwards to being waited on hand and foot; he was not too proud to milk his injury for all it was worth in that department.

He buzzed the interns six times, sending them off on various errands just purely to amuse himself. By the fifth time, there was a definite strain to the smiles when they poked their heads in. Storm grinned. In three days they'd be doing their best not to hang themselves when they heard him call.

Doc _had _ said to amuse himself, after all…


	4. Chapter 4

A couple days later, with sixteen hours and eleven minutes to go, Tommy was seriously considering slipping out and seeing how long he could dodge Snake just to keep himself from losing his mind. The threat of KP duty was the only thing keeping him in the recovery room, and even then…

He bet he could peel potatoes pretty quickly, after all. And if he couldn't terrify the cooks enough for them to beg him to leave while doing it, he _was_ slipping. And if he got Beach…well, Tommy knew a few things that the Sergeant Major didn't particularly want other people to be privy to. Storm would bet his extensive experience at blackmail on himself _not_ ending up scrubbing crud off of the 'jacks in the motor pool with a Q-tip.

His contemplation of just how _easy_ it would be to vanish up through the air duct, worm his way out of the ductwork through the one join with the loose rivets, get into the ceiling, and head to his room was interrupted by hurried footsteps in the hallway. He listened with interest. Ah, he'd been wondering…

The door burst open, and a very petite woman with short dark hair crashed through. Lifeline was right on her heels. "He's fine…just keeping him for observation. He might not want visitors…he hasn't been in a good mood." The medic sounded harried.

Sherry ignored the medic. "You got _shot?"_

"It does happen."

"With an _arrow_?" Sherry eyed the bandage on his side as if expecting him to start bleeding through it at any second.

"Red Hand ninja don't use firearms." Tommy sighed. "It was either my ribs or Hawk's skull. I really didn't have a choice."

She looked up. "Your ribs?"

"Cracked one." Tommy glanced at Lifeline. "You still have that X-Ray lying around? She'll keep asking questions until she figures out exactly what happened. Be easier just to let her see for herself."

The medic blinked. "You're macabre."

"Ninja."

The medic shrugged and vanished for a minute. He came back with a folder. Sherry grabbed it, flipped it open, and went dead white. "Jesus."

"See, it was either that or our CO's temple. Plus, I got a pay raise out of the deal."

"Is this _in your bone?"_

"Well, not anymore. Doc took it out."

"It was _in your bone!"_

"Yes. Rather painful, just a note. Hawk put in for a Purple Heart for me."

"This was two days ago?" She shoved the folder back at Lifeline and sat down on the edge of his bed. "Are you okay?"

"I'll live." He hesitated. "Well, I might die of boredom in here, but I'll survive the arrow wound."

"Lifeline says you won't let him give you painkillers. Aren't you hurting?"

"I got shot with an arrow two days ago. I'm a ninja, not the weightlifter robot from that movie you like so much." He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, it hurts. No, I don't want any more painkillers." He shot Lifeline a dirty look. "I didn't want _any_ painkillers, just a note."

The medic sighed, turned, and stalked out, muttering something about ungrateful patients in general and hardheaded ungrateful ninja in particular.

Sherry gave him a long look. "Lifeline said you had surgery. You were bad, weren't you?"

Tommy shrugged. "I've had worse. I'll heal. I'll be out of here by tomorrow."

She raised her eyebrows. "Doc's releasing you that quickly?"

He hesitated. "Well, no. Hawk's order to stay put for no less than seventy-two hours is up in…" he glanced at the clock. "Fifteen hours, fifty-four minutes."

A long-suffering sigh. "Do you really think that you should be turning invisible and climbing on the ceiling that soon?"

He grinned. "If I could actually turn invisible, I'd already be gone. Hawk's keeping me here with the threat of having Snake drag me back in by the scruff of the neck and then sticking me on KP. If I could turn transparent, I wouldn't have to worry about my sword brother finding me. He was never as good as I was at seeing-ear. Not that it's his fault; not everyone has my ears."

She smiled. "Well, you're being a smartass. That's a good sign, I suppose."

"The really sad thing is that Snake _would_ drag me back in by the scruff of my neck." Tommy scowled. "God only knows _he's_ ducked medical care enough. Next time he ends up in here, I'm not going to lie about his whereabouts when Doc asks."

"I'm telling Scarlett that you help him."

He snorted. "She already knows. She's threatened me before, but I'm not overly worried. She's got a good front snap kick, but I'm still faster than she is."

"She kicks Snake Eyes all the time." Sherry frowned.

"He lets her."

The frown deepened. "You don't let me kick _you_."

"Work at your speed some and I might think about it."

She blinked. "That does not make any kind of sense."

"Sure it does. If you manage to get up to, say, Jaye's foot speed, I'll give you a free shot at my shins. Covergirl's, and I'll give you two."

She brightened. "Really?"

"Yes. Is my bribe acceptable?"

"Steel toed boots?"

He eyed her. "Have I done something that I'm not aware of? I'm in the hospital, woman. Have you no heart?"

She smiled sweetly. "I just want payback for all the times you used me as a demo when you were showing us throws. The floor still has an imprint in the shape of my ass, you know."

"You're small, you're light, you fall well, and you know better than to fight it. I wasn't as likely to hurt you as one of the bigger, dumber guys." He grimaced. "Roadblock can't seem to get 'go with it' through his head, no matter how many times I try to beat it into him. And don't even get me started on BeachHead. 'Tap out when it hurts' are five words that I don't think make it through the balaclava."

"So, no steel toed boots?" She looked disappointed.

"No."

"Still sounds fun." She stood. "Do you need anything? You said you're bored…I know you have some books in your room…"

"I wouldn't mind."

"Any preferences? Or just grab anything with words on it?"

"Anything." He grinned. "You know, Doc's interns won't go in my room for any reason, even if I'm not in it. I think I scare them."

She snorted. "They think you've got your things booby-trapped with poison needles or something. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you want me to bring you something to sharpen or clean?"

"I ate, but I wouldn't mind something to drink. And my swords do need attention. Snake said he left my things on my bed after Lifeline took them off when he was treating me; do you know where I keep my polishing kit?"

"No…Tea? Juice? Water? I know you don't approve of soda. Communist."

"Top left drawer of my dresser. Ice water is fine. Soda isn't good for you."

"_Commie."_


	5. Chapter 5

I rather enjoy having someone around who lets me poke around a bit into Storm Shadow's head. Sherry seems to serve this purpose quite well…

* * *

Sherry brought two books, his swords, his polishing kit, his whetstone and honing oil, and a shoebox she'd found God only knew where filled with assorted knives, _shuriken_, and throwing spikes.

"They were stacked on your bed." She set a glass of water down on the table by his cot. Ice cubes clinked against the glass. "Do you seriously get all of that on you at once?"

Storm Shadow took a drink and then eyed one of the knives critically. He'd nicked the blade on the body armor of one of the vipers he'd stabbed. "Yes."

She raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"Practice." He grinned. "Thanks for bringing the lot…I feel naked without at least two knives on me. And I usually carry a garrote and lockpicks too."

"Jesus."

He started carefully smoothing away the notch on the cutting edge of the blade. "You'd be surprised how often lockpicks can prove useful."

"I want to see you go through a metal detector sometime." A grin "It'd be like the Matrix scene. Right before Neo goes crazy."

He blinked. "The what?"

She sighed. "Never mind."

He shrugged, then perked up, listening. He spread the weaponry Sherry had brought over the bed in front of him, and when the intern poked his head in it was to the sight of a ninja surrounded by enough sharp things to give even a Dreadnok pause. The man went white and hastily backed out.

Sherry looked at the door, then at him. "You did that on purpose."

Tommy grinned. "Yes."

She eyed the bandages on his side for roughly the ninth time since she'd walked in. "You're sure you don't want anything for that?"

"I'm sure." He hesitated. "I…don't react well to painkillers."

She looked at him for a second before snickering. "Okay. I'll admit it. I want to see you strung out on morphine now. From what I've heard, that sounds more than a little amusing."

He scowled. "I really am going to kill Lifeline."

"Please don't." She stopped laughing. "I know you don't like being laid up…but he's kept all of us alive more than a few times. And if I'd seen you with a damn arrow sticking out of you, I'd have been screaming at him to give you _something_."

Well, that was true. And good combat medics were hard to find. He sighed. "Fine. No killing medics. Got it."

"You'd better not." She glared. "Or you won't get any for a _long_ time."

"Sure." He smirked.

She glared. "I would hit you for that if you weren't injured."

"You'd try." He corrected.

She stood. "Ha, ha. I have to get some things done…just have Lifeline find me if you need something. I'll be back in."

"I'll be here. For the next fifteen hours." He grimaced. "Unfortunately."

"Take a nap." She said, not sounding very sympathetic. "I'd kill to be able to sleep all day, you know."

"Lazy."

She just snorted and left.

She turned up again at dinnertime. Storm Shadow perked up; he recognized the smell of grilled salmon. With…he sniffed again…lemon and rosemary.

He made a mental note to let Roadblock off of 'demo dummy' duty in hand to hand for the next several months. Generally he tried to beat on everyone more or less equally…but real food earned the machine gunner a reprieve.

He met her at the door. She glared at him. "Get back in bed. You shouldn't be up."

He frowned. "I can walk." He relieved her of the tray. "You have no idea how badly I have to be hurt before I can't even stand on my own."

"I'd rather not think about it." She sighed.

He settled himself back on his cot. "Let's just say that as long as I'm not dead or just about there, I can walk out of a situation under my own power. Ask Snake Eyes about it. Or Scarlett." He grimaced and rubbed his shoulder. "She just about did me in when she stabbed me. I didn't know I had that much blood."

Sherry blinked several times. "Scarlett. Stabbed you."

"Well, to be fair she thought I was going to kill someone. But yes."

The petite pilot sighed and put her head in her hands. "I knew Snake Eyes has cut you up…and Roadblock tackled you and beat you up...is there anyone on the Joe team who _hasn't_ tried to kill you?"

He paused, thinking. "Well, you, some of the newer members, a few of the greenshirts…but most of the veteran team has taken a shot at me at some point."

"Weird. _Weird."_ A sigh, and then she cocked her head. "I know you and Snake were friends-even though there is _nothing_ normal about that whole situation-but how come the rest of the team seems to take you in stride? I mean, you killed people for Cobra. I know you did."

"There were some incidents early on." He shrugged. "BeachHead still isn't fond of me…I'll admit that I did send more than a few of his recruits home in bodybags, and he's never forgiven me for that. But…most people seem to understand. They've known Snake Eyes for a long time, and they understand at least a little of what an oath means to a ninja. I swore to serve Cobra until I found my uncle's killer…and I fulfilled that oath. I'm sworn to serve Hawk now, for as long as I'm in the military. The team seems to accept that."

"Oh." She was quiet for a minute. "By the way…if you were born in Japan, how did you get into the US military? Did you have to apply for citizenship or something?"

He snorted. "Subject changes…you have the attention span of a two year old…I was born in California. Officially I'm an American citizen."

"Shut it, smartass. I thought your family…were…ninja…" She trailed off, apparently realizing the implications of this. "Damn."

"We used to pick up quite a bit of work for the US government. My mother and father had a place in Fresno; it was more convenient than flying across the Pacific every two months. I happened to be born while they were on American soil, but the Japanese government doesn't argue with ninja clans. They gave me citizenship when they were told to."

"Ninja? In California?"

"And New York, Chicago…We don't just work in Japan, you know. Most ninja clans are opportunists. And big cities provide lots of work. Anywhere where there's power and wealth, there are going to be people willing to kill-or hire to kill-to get a piece of it."

"No. Stop talking. I don't want to know." She groaned. "My head hurts now. Chicago. I was _born_ in Chicago. It's the goddamn _Midwest._ There are no ninja in the Midwest, damn it."

"Suit yourself." He shrugged.

"So, a few years back, when that police chief vanished and they never found him…"

"Possibly. It wasn't my clan, though."

"Fucking hell." A groan. "Remind me why I hang around with you, again? You do cruel things to my worldview."

"No clue."

Nine hours and forty-five minutes later, and Storm Shadow was watching the clock expectantly. Fifteen minutes…Lifeline was in the clinic, so it'd be through the ceiling…dear _god_ if the clock went any slower he was going to lose it…

With five minutes to go, Lifeline strolled in. He examined the ninja, who had taken his eyes off the clock as soon as the door opened. The medic didn't seem fooled.

"Hawk's order wears off soon." Lifeline strode over. "And I know very well that as soon as I turn around, you'll be gone. Doc and I would like you to stay put a while longer; I don't suppose bribery would work?"

"No."

"I didn't really think so." The medic sighed. "We'll track you down, and you know it."

"Not easily."

Another sigh. "I hate injured ninja. Let me change your dressing; if you're going to vanish, at least let me make sure you're doing well first."

"Bring a needle near me and you'll be the one getting a shot."

"I wasn't going to. Where'd those weapons go? You've completely terrified the interns, you know. Speaking of which, where did you get new clothes? Banger?"

Storm nodded and removed his shirt. Lifeline blinked at the pair of knives tucked into the waistband of his pants and the glimpse of _shuriken_ tucked away in pockets inside the _gi_ top. "Is that really necessary?"

"I feel more naked without weapons than without clothes." Storm Shadow didn't resist as the medic peeled off the bandages and examined the injury. He looked down curiously himself.

Neat stitches closing a long incision were all that he could see, but he knew quite well that there were more stitches mending torn muscle underneath.

"Well, despite the number of times you tugged out your IV line, this isn't infected." Lifeline looked satisfied. "Since you won't stay put like a sensible human and let us keep you on antibiotics intravenously, I'll put you on pills. I know you'll vanish, and we'll track you down purely to keep an eye on you for another few days. The stitches can come out in once you've healed a bit more."

The medic finished replacing the bandages and produced a small white bottle. "Three a day with food for a week. Don't pull out your stitches."

"Yes, mother." Storm caught the bottle.

Lifeline glanced at the clock and sighed. "I'd put a guard on you, but I know it wouldn't help. Even if I sit here and stare at you, you'll be gone as soon as I blink, won't you? And you'd find some way to distract me long enough to vanish."

"Yes." Tommy pulled his shirt back on.

"I've got forms to file. Five minutes, then I'll start looking. At least you'll burn off some of the energy you've been using to torture the interns. Do _not_ hurt yourself." The medic sighed again and left.

It took Storm Shadow approximately three and a half seconds to vanish through the ceiling panels.


	6. Chapter 6

Twenty minutes later, Tommy was dropping down on his bed with a wince. Ninja or not, climbing through ceilings three days after getting shot wasn't something that his body was crazy about. He sternly told it to shut up.

His room was spare; his bed, his dresser, the stand where his swords were kept when not in use and a large chest of drawers where he kept the rest of his tools and weapons.

Ninja tended to accumulate a rather large collection of weapons over the years. Storm Shadow was no exception. His knife collection hadn't quite started taking over his walls yet, but he couldn't say the same about his assortment of flexible weapons.

Snake Eyes had never liked whip chains, nunchuks, _kasuri-kama_, or three-section staffs. This had rather frustrated the Hard Master and some of the other, rather jealous trainees, because Snake was _very_ good with them. Tommy, on the other hand, both enjoyed using flexible weapons and was very, very good with them. There was just something about wrapping a bladed chain around someone's throat from ten feet away...he'd once broken a mark's neck from the rafters with a skillfully wielded _kasuri-kama_ and a hard jerk, and had been gone before the _yakuza _gunmen had even realized that their boss was falling. He grinned in memory.

He liked the open floor space in his quarters, though. It gave him space to meditate and train. He hummed to himself and pulled a knife from his sleeve, spinning it a few times almost absentmindedly before starting (slowly; he didn't want to hear Doc's lecture if he pulled his stitches) on knife forms.

It felt good to walk through technique again; ninja trained pretty much constantly, and Tommy really didn't like going more than a day or so without working _something._ His side was complaining, but he ignored it.

He was finishing with his knife techniques and was eyeing his favorite _kasuri-kama_ when he heard Lifeline's characteristic footsteps approaching. He was up on the dresser and through the ceiling panels in roughly a quarter of a second.

He bit back a hiss; he'd stretched just a _little_ too far, and was regretting it. He hoped that he hadn't pulled a stitch; Doc tended to react rather badly when the ninja showed up to have stitches less than a week old replaced.

He replaced the ceiling tile, shinned his way over a ventilation duct, and plastered himself to the back side of it, out of sight from someone checking above the ceiling tiles anywhere in his room. Which Lifeline _would_. The combat medic was clever and had been working with ninja for years now; he'd learned a few of their regular tricks.

Tommy listened; Lifeline stopped almost directly below him, and he heard the medic knock on his door. There was a pause.

"Storm, I'm not here to drag you back. Doc wants you to know that he's not going to chase you around; you're doing well. He does want you to check in daily, though. If you don't turn up by noon tomorrow, I will be tracking you down, and I will have the kitchen staff drug your food when they see you coming if you give us any trouble. Don't pull your stitches."

The medic's footsteps moved off. Tommy levered another ceiling tile aside and dropped down into the hallway, then stood on tiptoe to replace it. He was keying in his door code when a familiar black-clad figure rounded the corner down the hallway. Snake Eyes sped up; Tommy paused.

*Good to see you on your feet.* Snake Eyes was smiling under his mask. *I was worried about you. *

Tommy snorted. "I wasn't hurt badly enough to be _off_ my feet, but Hawk ordered me to play along with the medical staff...you knew that. Apparently I'm not going to have to dodge medics until tomorrow; Doc wants me to check in daily." He grinned. "And you just don't want some random ninja to succeed when you've failed so spectacularly over the years to take me down."

*Count the scars, brother. You've got more of them from me than anyone else. Sooner or later I'll convince Hawk that the best way to thank us for saving him is to just let us get on with our work. You're in trouble, by the way.*

Tommy raised an eyebrow.

*Your girlfriend's been fretting; she was distracted all the way through hand-to-hand. I distinctly heard the words 'stupid idiot is going to hurt himself', 'bloody moron thinks he's a bloody Immortal', and 'I've got his stupid pride right here'. If I were you, I'd already be shopping for chocolates.*

Storm sighed. "Great. Thank you for the warning."

*Anytime.* Snake Eyes vanished into his room. Tommy retreated into his own quarters again.

He gingerly peeled back the bandages on his ribs and sighed in relief; the stitches were intact. He showered and re-dressed his side. He had over the years become rather good at applying bandages to himself. Some skills were picked up purely through necessity.

Feeling considerably better about life, he glanced at his clock. He was starting to think that something to eat would make things look even better, and he'd rather not fight with Sherry on an empty stomach anyways.

It was just about time for the mess hall to start serving dinner. Tommy tucked his usual three knives and half dozen_ shuriken_ away in various hiding spots and wandered down to the mess hall. Some of the other Joes considered both of the ninja's habit of going armed at _all_ times overkill. Storm Shadow, however, had spent most of his life with people trying to kill him at unexpected times. This was more or less normal for a ninja, but it pretty quickly convinced one that no matter how secure an area seemed, it was better to be safe than sorry. Paranoia? Maybe, but it had kept him alive more than once.

Supper wasn't Roadblock's cooking, but it wasn't bad either. The Joes got fed much better than Cobra troops.

Tommy grimaced in memory. No matter _what,_ they'd drowned _everything _in sauce. He'd wished more than once that he could shut down his taste buds the way he could shut out pain in the middle of battle. And _battle_ was the appropriate term for dealing some of the substances passed off as food in the Cobra mess halls.

A few minutes later, Dusty plopped down next to him. Storm nodded an amiable greeting; he rather liked the desert trooper. Dusty was, actually, rather impossible to _dislike._

The tall man grinned at him. "Feeling better?"

Tommy shrugged. "I wasn't bad. I would have been back on light duty as soon as I came out of surgery if Hawk hadn't decided to interfere."

The desert trooper shook his head. "You'd probably have asked not to be anesthetized for surgery if you thought you could get by with it. Crazy bastard."

Tommy snorted. "I had enough trouble convincing Lifeline and Doc that I didn't need a local for stitches when I first joined, and they were already used to working with Snake. We still haven't been able to convince them that a local is fine for most surgery."

Dusty grinned. "I saw them loading you onto the evac chopper. Just tell them to dope you up on morphine first. I doubt you'd know _what_ was going on after that." A snigger. "What I wouldn't have given for a camera…you were talking to the helicopter, you know."

Storm glared. "If you feel it necessary to spread that particular bit of information around, I can and will sabotage the air conditioning in your bunkroom. Fifty degrees sound good?"

Dusty winced. "Ugh. No thank you. You're a great guy. A real buddy. I don't even mind when you kick me through the wall during hand-to-hand or show us up at PT. Forget that I said anything. Please don't freeze me to death."

"That's what I thought." Tommy turned his attention back to his food. "By the way, I need a favor…you're going off base for a date with one of the civvy women from town tonight, right?"

Dusty blinked. "How did you…"

"I am rather good at finding things out." Tommy smiled wickedly. "Bring back a large box of assorted chocolates. I doubt Hawk or Doc would appreciate it if I swiped a bike and slipped off base, and I don't think they'll give me leave for the next few days either."

Dusty grinned and saluted. "Anything to keep a fellow man out of the doghouse. You owe me one."

"I do not. Consider this payback for not telling BeachHead that it was you who helped Shipwreck replace the sugar by the coffeepot in his office with the powder from silica gel packets in April."

Dusty went pale. "How…_no one _saw that_._"

"I told you. I'm good at finding things out."

Dusty winced. "Yeah. Large box of chocolates. Got it. We're even. You know, at the time that seemed like a really good idea." The desert trooper sighed. "He really didn't take it well for an innocent little April fools prank."

Tommy raised an eyebrow.

"Right. BeachHead. Probably could have seen that one coming. You know, normally I don't do that kind of stuff, but 'Wreck can do some really good smooth-talking when he wants to. See if I ever let him override my better judgment again." Dusty grimaced.

Tommy stood, stretched, hid a wince, and picked up his tray. Dusty scooted down the table and started chatting amiably with Grunt. He was just edging his way out of the mess hall around the crowd just starting to filter in, when he heard his name being called in a loud female voice.

"_Tomisaburo!"_

Uh oh. Real name. He really _wasn't_ going to be getting any for awhile.

He spun, eyed the woman stomping towards him, and frowned. "If you have to yell at me, you can do it later and in private."

Sherry glared at him. "Fine. Your room, after I eat. You'd _better_ be there, too." She stomped off and elbowed her way back into her place in line.

Tommy glared after her for a second. He really was going to have to set her straight on a few things, number one being the question of medical confinement and the fact that except for the rare _very_ serious injury he usually didn't need it.

The last time he could remember actually being badly enough off that he couldn't have escaped from the hospital even if he'd wanted to was the last time he and Snake Eyes had tangled. Sucking chest wounds resulting from getting a sword shoved through your lung really weren't fun. Well, or when Red had stabbed him…he'd almost bled out after that one.

He sighed, shook his head, and headed for his quarters.


	7. Chapter 7

A short chapter, I know…sorry.

* * *

Back in his room, Storm meditated; calm was a good thing to have going into a chewing-out like the one he was sure was coming.

Women. Couldn't live with them, couldn't live without them. He sighed. There was an existential riddle in that somewhere.

The anticipated chewing out stormed through his door an hour later. He opened his eyes as Sherry crossed her arms and glared. He glared back.

"Go ahead. I won't get a word in edgewise until you get it out anyways." He propped his chin in one hand and waited.

"You. Are. An. Idiot." Sherry growled. "Shot. _Shot._ Less than a week ago, and you have to go haring off against doctor's orders just to prove that you're a big tough mean unfeeling inhuman goddamn _ninja._ I don't want to see you hurt yourself, damn it, and you're _going_ to. I've _been _shot before, so I _know _that three days isn't enough to make much of a difference. You need to be taking it easy and letting yourself heal, you stupid prick."

Tommy blinked. "Are you done?"

"Yeah. I feel better. I've been wanting to say that."

"Hm." He stood. "Question; how long have you been flying? I know you've been a combat pilot for seventeen years, but how long have you been around planes?"

She blinked. "What?"

"Humor me, please." He folded his arms.

"Oh, I don't even know. My father was a commercial pilot, so since I could walk, I guess."

"That's what I thought. Do you never wonder why I don't worry much when you fly combat missions?"

"Not really."

"I know you can handle yourself in the air. Say you were hit and your plane was damaged. Would you panic?"

"No." She shrugged. "It happens. I deal with it. Occupational hazard, I suppose."

"Exactly why I don't worry about you too much; it's your job, and you do it well. You know how to cope with the dangers. Now, think about this. I've been training since I was five, so over twenty five years now. I fought in my first inter-clan battle and killed my first man at fourteen. By seventeen I was a full field agent. At eighteen, my uncles sent me to war. At twenty two, I came home to find my father dead and took his place as a junior master of my clan. At twenty five, I was being hunted as a murderer by my own family and started serving under the only man who seemed to know my uncle's true killer. At thirty, I joined G.I. Joe. I have been in more battles than I can even begin to count. I have endured every kind of injury that you can possibly imagine."

He leveled a long stare at her. "If I could be dropped with something as minor as a flesh wound and a cracked rib, I would not have survived my teens. I've kept fighting through injuries that should have killed me. Getting hurt is as much an occupational hazard for me as getting holes punched in my plane is for you. I know how to deal with it, and I can and do fight right through it. If I couldn't, I wouldn't survive long." He grinned humorlessly. "I've made a living being ridiculously hard to kill and ridiculously good at killing other people. So don't tell me what I can and can't do when I'm injured, because I've already been through it all, and I already know very well what I'm capable of."

She blinked at him for a second. "Jesus. Touch a nerve, did I?"

"I am a ninja. I can take care of myself better than pretty much anyone else on the planet. I've endured worse injuries with less medical treatment. While I appreciate the fact that you care enough to worry, do not try to mother me." He sighed. "My training is what keeps me alive, and I work constantly to be as good as I am. You know that. Well, ignoring pain and fighting through injuries is as vital to my survival as being able to win a knife fight. I slack off just because I got nicked, and I'm dead. Being a ninja isn't something I can turn on and off, you know. It's what I _am. _I'm not really sure that you realize that. "

"I do." She wasn't scowling any longer. "Really. I'm sorry, though…I didn't really think about how often you must have been through stuff like this. Sorry for snapping at you, but, well, you're hurt, and I didn't know where you were and if you were okay, and I was worried. I won't apologize for that."

"You don't have to." He smiled. "Don't try to give me a curfew, and we're good."

A snort. "Like you'd listen anyways."

"True." He grinned. "If you want to fuss over me, by the way, I won't say no to breakfast in bed tomorrow or a backrub right now…and maybe another one tomorrow."

She rolled her eyes. "If I bring you breakfast in bed after PT tomorrow, what are the chances that I'll walk in to find you playing with one of your sharp pointy toys?"

"Pretty good." Tommy considered. "I might also be working out…Doc'll have Lifeline checking the gym, so I'd have to hide in here." He frowned. "Well, he didn't actually say no running, so maybe I'll hit the trails tomorrow. So probably weapons training, yes."

"And what exactly would be the point of breakfast in bed if you aren't an invalid?"

He blinked at her. "Do I have to have a reason to enjoy a woman bringing me breakfast?"

"Well, if you're fit enough to hide from medics and juggle knives blindfolded, you can get your own butt down to the mess hall for breakfast." Sherry snorted. "He spends ten minutes telling me off for considering getting shot enough to slow him down, and then angles for food service and makeup sex. You really are too much."

"I said nothing about makeup sex." Tommy raised an eyebrow. "If you're offering, however…"

"Uh huh. 'Backrub'. Right." Sherry snorted. "And no. I require the standard post-argument reconciliation gift to placate me first. Chocolates, preferably. No jewelry. Flowers are also acceptable, but less tasty."

"Sometimes I think you just use me to acquire free chocolate." Tommy sighed.

"Well, my mother always told me to make a guy work for it at least a little." Sherry chuckled evilly. "Plus, I like chocolate, and I like it even better when I didn't pay for it."

Tommy sighed again.


	8. Chapter 8

Tommy didn't even bother showing for PT the next morning; while it was always amusing to watch BeachHead yell himself hoarse, he'd rather actually get something done. Knowing that Lifeline would be busy on the PT course, he took his swords and headed for the target range. One of the odder things that the quartermasters had to keep a constant stock of in the Pit was cutting targets, and the senior QM regularly complained about just how _picky_ the ninja were about their cutting targets.

To quote the man after Tommy had registered his _extreme _displeasure at a shipment of second-tier cutting mats, "Who woulda known that you have to have the _expensive_ shit to slice up?"

Storm Shadow had pointed out (a good deal more acerbically) that all of the Joe's supplies were paid for by Uncle Sam, and that the quartermaster could stand in as a cutting target if he _really_ wanted to cut costs on supplies. A fresh box of top-quality, tightly-woven _tatami _mats and a shipment of green bamboo poles was delivered to the target range the next morning.

The reason for insisting on high quality cutting supplies was simple; the expensive cutting mats were expensive because they closely replicated the resistance of human flesh and bone. While this was not a big deal for martial artists who simply trained for recreational purposes, ninja _needed _to know that their weapons would take off an arm if an occasion arose where they had to take off someone's arm. Which, given their line of work, happened on a pretty regular basis.

Two dozen cutting targets were reduced to julienned slivers by the time Tommy was satisfied. He was pleased to discover that even with his bad side, he could go through the target with very little trouble, though it slowed him enough that he only bisected the falling top half of the target before it hit the floor instead of his normal quartering of the moving target.

He kept an eye on the clock, and just before PT let out cleaned up the evidence of his recent massacre of cutting targets. His swords were returned to their stand, and he pointedly put in an appearance at breakfast. Lifeline eyed him suspiciously; Tommy did his best to look innocent.

The medic frowned at him as they waited in line. "Were you sweating?"

"No."

"Your hair is damp."

"Shower." Tommy lied easily. "I'm allowed to do that, aren't I?"

The medic looked unconvinced. "Remember what happens if you don't show up by noon?"

"You send Mutt and Junkyard to sniff me out." Tommy grinned. "I can take care of them…I'll swipe some raw steak from the kitchens. Junkyard might be harder to distract, though."

The medic snorted despite himself. "You know, Doc promised to get me one of the guns that scientists use to tranquilize bears. And yes, I _will_ shoot a tranquilizer gun…if it's to help a patient, it's not hurting anyone, and that's okay."

"So long as he doesn't give it to Low Light, I'm not too worried. And even then, I'm not really concerned."

Lifeline grinned. "You've never seen my scores from Basic, have you?"

Tommy eyed the slender medic warily. "You know, I've always wondered how you got through that…"

"Let's just say that it frustrates Low Light to no end that I refuse to pick up a gun. His exact words were "Bloody crime to waste talent like that."" The medic's grin spread. "I think I can put a dart into you if I really want to."

"You're welcome to try." Tommy accepted a bowl of oatmeal and added liberal amounts of honey. "That would be a new one. I've been shot at by a lot of people, using a wide variety of weapons, but a pacifist medic with a bear tranquilizer would be an interesting addition to the list."

Lifeline sighed. "You could at least sound mildly repentant about the fact your doctors are buying a big game tranquilizer gun largely because of your efforts to avoid medical care at all costs."

"I could, but I wouldn't mean it."

"I hate ninja." Lifeline sighed again. "I'm going to start keeping both you and Snake Eyes sedated the whole time you're in my care, you know."

Tommy raised an eyebrow. "Do that, and we break fingers when we finally come around."

Lifeline just shook his head and went to get some coffee.

Breakfast disposed of, Tommy changed into sweatpants and a army-issue tee and slunk his way out of the Pit. He was feeling quite pleased with himself as he shimmied under the fenceline and fell into the efficient, ground-eating lope of a distance runner.

He hadn't gone half a mile on the first trail when he heard pounding feet behind him. He recognized the distinctive stride, and the yell a moment later confirmed his suspicions.

"_STORM! GET BACK HERE!"_

Lifeline must have been watching the trails with binoculars from the roof. The medic was fast, and motivated, but Tommy lengthened his stride and moved from 'easy lope' to 'just faster than the medic'. If he simply left him in the dust…and he _could…_Lifeline would just go get a jeep. If the medic thought his patent was slowed by his injury, he might hold out hope of catching him on foot.

But the pursuit only lasted a quarter of a mile before Lifeline doubled back, presumably headed for the motor pool. Tommy sped up again, moving to 'just shy of sprinting'. He put another mile between himself and the fenceline before he heard the characteristic coughing growl of a jeep engine. He veered off the wide, smooth trail and into the thick trees of the forest surrounding the Pit complex.

He carefully left a faint footprint pointing north, then shinnied his way up a sprawling maple tree and headed northwest, staying in the trees. His stitches pulled, and to his dismay he distinctly felt one pop. Ignoring it, he skipped over a few more trees, settled himself in a fairly comfortable crook in an old oak tree, and waited.

The jeep passed; Tommy didn't move. Sure enough, after another half mile or so Lifeline backed the jeep up again, and cut the engine. The medic stormed into the treeline, followed by Spirit. 'Lonzo was on leave, at home with his family, or Tommy would have been slightly more worried.

Lifeline watched impatiently as the second-best tracker on the Joe team swept the forest floor. Sure enough, he found the footprint, and sure enough, he did an about face and started searching south and southeast. Tommy grinned to himself.

Twenty minutes later, and the pair gave up. Lifeline was cursing rather inventively. Spirit was looking slightly disgruntled, which Tommy knew was more because the man took it rather as a personal insult that the ninja had succeeded in foiling his tracking skills than because the native American man was worried about him.

The jeep growled back to life and the sound of the engine faded as the vehicle headed back towards the Pit.

He skinned back down to the ground and headed back to the trail, where he sped up, falling back into his usual easy jog. Lifeline and Doc wouldn't be happy when they got their hands on them, but he'd deal with that when he got back to the Pit. If he was already going to get yelled at by the medics, he might as well earn every second of the lecture.


	9. Chapter 9

Twenty five miles and a two mile cooldown later, and Tommy was feeling pretty good. He scrutinized the motor pool entrance; per usual, it was open to ventilate the area. Clutch and his grease monkeys were buried in the engine of one of the battered old transport trucks, and CoverGirl was fiddling with her favorite Wolverine again, bent over at an angle that actually provided a pretty good view. Clutch straightened to grab a rag and apparently noticed this fact; even hidden in the brush twenty yards from the other Joes, Tommy heard the mauler driver.

"Nice...hey, Courtney, you wanna bend over a little further?"

A wrench bounced off of Clutch's head, accompanied by a really caustic string of expletives from CoverGirl. Clutch yelped and ducked a second missile; Tommy took full advantage of the commotion and slid unobserved into the motor pool, vanishing promptly into the shadows.

He made his way unobserved to his room, where this time he actually did shower. He examined his stitches, too. There was dried blood on his bandages; he'd torn the barely-scabbed incision open again when he'd pulled the stitches out.

Damn. He'd torn out three of them. He considered ignoring the problem; he'd heal soon enough anyways, and technically it would just be fewer stitches for Doc to remove.

Of course, Doc probably wouldn't see it that way. Deciding that he might as well suck it up, he sighed and headed for the infirmary. With any luck, Doc would be distracted enough stitching up Clutch's forehead to minimize the lecturing.

Lifeline, looking distinctly irritated, was the medic on duty. As soon as Storm Shadow sauntered as casually as he possibly could through the infirmary door, Lifeline was paging Doc. The combat medic fixed the ninja with a glare that could have stripped paint.

"It isn't noon." Storm pointed out. It was, in fact, exactly five minutes to. "I'm following instructions."

"How badly did you screw up our work?" Lifeline narrowed his eyes. "I triple-tied those stitches, but you still managed to pull some if I know you."

Doc stormed through the door just then. Storm Shadow sighed; the doctor's expression was _livid_.

"Sit." The doctor growled, pointing at the nearest examination table.

"In my defense, I would like to point out that you didn't tell me that I wasn't allowed to run." Tommy obeyed the order. "And I turned myself in before noon, so technically I _am_ doing as I was told."

"Shut up." Doc growled. "Shirt off, and if you try giving me any excuses I will sedate you and sew your mouth shut."

"I'm just saying." Tommy tugged his tank top off. "If you didn't want me running, you should have been more specific..._ow!"_

Doc, who'd just peeled off the bandages without _any_ care for whatever body hair the dressing was stuck to, glowered. "Don't whine..._three?"_

Lifeline sighed and went to fetch suturing supplies. "Triple tied...heavy duty thread...and he still pops them out."

"Good thing you did tie them as securely as you did, or he'd have torn open the whole incision." Doc glared at the ninja. "And then he'd have been in here bleeding all over the floor, and still acting like it's _my_ fault for not itemizing an entire list of things he's not allowed to do. Things that should be _common goddamn sense,_ like don't run a bloody marathon when you've just had fairly major_ surgery_ to remove a damn _arrowhead_ from your _ribcage._"

"I don't need my ribs to run." Tommy pointed out. "I popped the stitches when I was hiding from Lifeline. If he had just let me be, I'd be fine." He winced again as Doc cleaned the freshly-opened injury with disinfectant and jabbed a needle through his skin.

"Don't you dare act like it's my fault." Lifeline crossed his arms. "This is all on you and your apparent conviction that you're Superman."

"Three weeks of full medical leave." Doc said savagely, tying a final knot.

Tommy swiveled and scowled. "_What?"_

"You heard me. One for each stitch, and every time you come back to have another one replaced I'll tack on another week." Doc started taping a fresh gauze pad over the incision. "Nothing else seems to get to you."

"Three _weeks?_ For ripping out a few stitches?"

"Argue and I'll make it a month even." Doc shoved the tray of suturing equipment at Lifeline and folded his arms. There was a steely gleam in the medic's eyes. "And I still expect you to check in every day. Miss _one_ check-in and I'll make it two months of leave."

Tommy glared back, but didn't say anything.

Lifeline chipped in. "My new trank gun should be here within a week, and Doc ordered an extra...so if you fight us, in addition to leave, its open season on ninja. I may simply let anyone use the trank guns and sedative darts and offer a reward for anyone who can bring you in. Saves me so much running around."

Doc eyed the combat medic with approval. "That's an idea, actually. Maybe I'll put another half dozen on order."

"Low Light would be ecstatic...he's been trying to figure out more difficult training exercises for the advanced marksmen class." Lifeline observed.

"I'll fill out the forms and get them submitted."

"I _get_ it." Tommy snarled. "Be a good little boy. Can I go now?"

Doc flicked a hand in a 'shooing' motion. "Please. Get out, before I change my mind and decide sedating you for the next week is worth the risk of broken hands."

Tommy stomped out in a royally foul mood.

His mood hadn't improved any by dinnertime. Dusty, a package tucked under one arm, spotted him brooding over his food and trotted over.

"You owe me twenty bucks." The desert trooper eyed the ninja. "Um...You okay?"

"Fine." Tommy said shortly. He extracted a twenty from his back pocket and slapped it down on the table. "There."

Dusty eyed him. "How many stitches did you pull, and how long are you on medical leave?"

"Go. Away."

"More or less than a month?"

Storm glared.

"Right. I was just heading this direction...away from touchy ninja in deep shit with their doctors...bye now." Dusty set the package on the table and beat a hasty retreat, pocketing the money.

Tommy returned his tray and headed for the roof, stopping by his room to drop off the peace offering chocolates. On the roof, the really spectacular view of the sun setting over the Pit complex cheered him up slightly. The uninvited company that turned up a few minutes later didn't.

He was meditating on the edge of the roof, slowly calming himself, when he heard a familiar heartbeat. He opened his eyes; Snake Eyes was leaning against the safety wall ten feet away.

*Three weeks?*

Tommy scowled. "Completely unreasonable."

*What did you do?*

"Went for a run, and pulled three stitches when I was hiding from Lifeline and Spirit."

*Ouch.* Snake Eyes shook his head. *That is rather unreasonable. God knows I've done more or less the same thing more than a few times. Much worse, often enough.*

Tommy sighed; at least his sword brother was sympathetic. "To make things worse, he says that if I do anything as insignificant as turn myself in to the medical Nazis five minutes late, he'll make it two months."

Snake Eyes winced. *Are you still in female trouble?*

"No, thank the merciful gods."

*Well, if you need to vent...* Snake Eyes shrugged. *I'll leave you alone to sulk now.*

Tommy almost smiled. "You're a good friend."

*I try.* Snake smiled under his mask and melted back into the early evening shadows.

Feeling marginally better, Tommy returned to contemplation.

It was several hours later before he finally made his way back down to his quarters. Just inside his door, he paused, blinking.

Sherry was sitting on his bed, scrutinizing the box of chocolates. There were several empty spaces in the box already. She carefully selected one and nibbled experimentally; her face lit up.

"Ooh...coconut cream. I'm assuming these were for me?"

Tommy blinked again. "Why are you naked? Not that I'm complaining."

"Because I heard about your little adventure today, and I know you well enough to know that if you get a good sulk going you will be absolutely impossible to be around for the next week. I think it's called 'taking one for the team'."

He grinned. "I may need to be snapped out of a bad mood every day for the next few weeks."

"Ha. Don't push your luck, ninja."

Finis.


End file.
